


I Entirely Care About You

by Jennifer-Oksana (JenniferOksana)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 15:23:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5790637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferOksana/pseuds/Jennifer-Oksana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More than just all right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Entirely Care About You

“You know,” he said one day, spooned next to her on their bargain double bed in their cheap flat paid for by her shop money, “This is a bit of all right, isn’t it? I mean, I miss my TARDIS. And I keep having to dodge people that I used to know.”

“And I have to work in a shop,” Martha said.

“And you have to work in a shop,” he agreed agreeably, as this argument was part of their daily routine. “But other than that, there’s something about this that’s quite pleasant. Homey.”

His breath tickled the back of her neck and it was the straw that broke the camel’s back, metaphorically speaking. “Don’t you dare say, ‘well, night!'” Martha suddenly warned him.

“How did you know I was going to say that?” the Doctor asked.

“Because every night you curl up next to me, having progressed only slightly if at all with your bizarre quest to get the TARDIS back from the timey-wimey paradox, say, ‘really, this is not so bad! It’s quite good, come to think of it!’ and then roll over and start to snore,” Martha replied. “Perhaps you could ask me what I think.”

He rolled over and he really did have the loveliest eyes. “All right, Martha Jones, what do you think?”

“I think that telling a girl you don’t care and yet somehow, manage to tell her every day that being with her is pleasant and homey, and never consider what you are or aren’t saying, that’s bollocks,” she said, steeling herself.

“What? I’m saying that I think this is quite pleasant!” the Doctor complained. “And I care about you. Who told you I didn’t care about you? Didn’t I make you that lovely dinner after work the other day? And we have the most wonderful adventures! I care. I entirely care.”

Martha leveled a gaze at him, the gaze that made Tish run for cover, and her dad say, “All right, all right, Martha, I can feel the laser boring a hole in my head, I won’t bring her to dinner” when she did it right.

The Doctor, being the Doctor, only looked puzzled. “I entirely care about you, Martha,” he repeated, reaching out to squeeze her hand.

Feeling bold and a little vexed — if she had to live out her life as a shopgirl in 1969 instead of finishing her degree, having a residency, finding a barrister or a surgeon to marry and have a child with, and living out a respectable and pleasant life, she was not living it out a blessed nun — she took his hand.

And put it directly on her thigh.

“I think we have a rather fundamental problem with the nature of your caring, Doctor,” she said. “You look at me like someone who cares. You share a bed like someone who cares. And don’t tell me you don’t want me to get hurt. You hurt me more when you get so close and then pull away!”

Martha waited for his hand to pull away. It didn’t. Neither did it move. It just stayed there, while he looked at her.

“Are you so unhappy with the way things are?” he asked at last.

“Yes. No,” she said. “Don’t ask me if I’m unhappy. I’m not. But I’m not _happy,_ either.”

“And you think this,” and his hand slid upward and in, though not too far, of course, “Will make you happy?”

“Is it so dreadful to contemplate? Do Time Lords not do that sort of thing with rubbishy little humans?” Martha asked with a curt laugh, horrible thoughts flashing through her head. Maybe he wasn’t looking at her like that. Maybe this was how Time Lords treated pets.

Oh, God, maybe she was his especially loved Labrador Retriever!

“No. Of course not, no,” he said reassuringly. Like someone said to a panicky cat — oh, bloody hell, why had she gone and asked? “I just see you and I think of what happened to her.”

“Rose, you mean,” Martha said. Of course. His two hearts beat only for some girl who was long gone, and who Martha really wanted to hit in the beautiful, dark-browed face. Rose probably never would have complained about working a shop to support the Doctor.

Which was another excellent reason to hate her, but that was neither here nor there.

“No. Why would you say that? I had another friend. Her name’s Sarah,” he said, his hand moving in circles on the spot of thigh he’d chosen. “Brilliant woman. Absolutely brilliant. A reporter. Smart as a whip, always spoke her mind, independent.”

“So what happened to her?” Martha asked.

“Nothing, that’s just the thing,” the Doctor said with a sad, distant glint in his eye. “I dropped her off, and then nothing happened. Never married, never had children. And before you give me the lecture, I know that’s not all women can do. She gave me the lecture. But you know what I mean. She was brilliant, and her life didn’t change. It’s like I left her stranded, and she never moved on.”

Martha lay there, silent. “So you’re worried that once I’ve had it off with you, I will pine away, alone and sad, once you inevitably leave me?” she asked, starting to laugh.

“Aye!” he said, taking an offended look on. “I’m pouring out my heart to you, Martha. I don’t want to imagine you alone in a flat, unable to live your own life because I’ve gone.”

“But you’ll let me work in a shop because we’ve lost the bloody TARDIS until I drop, content to ignore that I make you…care,” she said. “Oh, quite the knight in shining armor, you are. I think you’re just afraid that I’ll be disappointed.”

He flushed red. He actually flushed, and if Martha wasn’t so sure this was going to end with him sleeping on the beanbag chair and twiddling with his time detector thingamabob all blessed night, keeping her awake before her opening shift tomorrow, she’d be completely enjoying herself. The Doctor! Telling her that if they went at it, she would become a lonely old spinster obsessed with him. If that wasn’t arrogant, she didn’t know what was.

“Is that really the way you feel about it?” he asked, all sour-mouthed. Oh, Martha had hit a nerve. She supposed she was supposed to understand his clearly completely sensible reasons for chucking any chance they had.

“No, this is how I feel,” Martha said, reaching out and stroking his face. “I think you care. I think that you like me, Doctor. And I really, really care. But sometimes a girl needs more than that.”

She braced for a round of “of course I like you…oh, you mean _that sort of like_ , well, blah blippity avoid avoid avoid time is a blobby paradox, you see!,” but he turned his head.

He turned his head and licked her palm, and Martha felt a bit dizzy, yeah, like she’d just gotten zapped with the sonic screwdriver but in the right parts.

Which only amplified when he started sucking on one of her fingers, like he’d just given up the whole charade about being the slightly daft, slightly above-it-all beautiful Doctor-man, which maybe he had.

Or maybe he was just proving he wasn’t crap at it to show cheeky medical students who couldn’t take no for an answer.

Which meant Martha, in order to make sure he didn’t stop, had to make sure he didn’t think she was crap at it.

She moved forward, pulling her fingers from his mouth and catching his lower lip between hers, reaching down and finding his hand to twine it between her fingers. He immediately slid it back to her hip, pulling her closer.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?” she whispered, rubbing her cheek against his, lips close to his earlobe. Boys were always fond of earlobes.

“Not compared to what I get to look at,” he answered, licking her again. He was very fond of using his tongue. That was definitely all right, he had a knack for it. “Are you sure?”

“Sure as I’ve ever been,” she said, sliding against him, closer.

“This is better than all right,” he whispered, fingertips tickling up the hem of her nightgown.

“Yeah,” she agreed, her back arching slightly. “Definitely.”


End file.
